Trick Or Treat
by Kei Tree
Summary: CH 5 Up! An escaped Goa'uld, and rather sadistic Powers to Be, bring Xander out of the dubious security of his quaint little demon filled world, and into a not so quaint alien filled star system.
1. Surprise!

**Timeline:** Buffy post Seventh Season, Stargate mid Fourth Season   
(just because). Feedback of any kind is appreciated. Enjoy.  
  
**Disclaimer:** All ideas and characters are copyright their   
respective owners. I'm not trying to steal. Just going to   
borrow and play for a bit. Honest.   
  
Yay Irene, for agreeing to read yet another non Laby related fic! :)  
All grammar mistakes are, as always, totally mine (Irene does tend   
to minimize the damage though... LOL)  
  
** Trick-Or-Treat: Chapter One**   
  
"Damnit Daniel, hurry it up! If we loose that snake the General   
will..."  
  
"Give you a new and shiny one of your very own?" Daniel panted.   
  
"Har-de-har har," Jack deadpanned as he waited impatiently for   
their lagging teammate.  
  
"I hate allergies. I hate Cleveland."  
  
"And do I have to remind you whose bright idea it was to transport   
our little pet Goa'uld to Area 51 from Cheyenne by TRUCK?"   
  
"I believe that was General Hammond, Jack O'Neill. Dr. Frasier's   
examination of our captive revealed that high altitude would   
negatively affect the weakened symbiote. Katar's use would be   
greatly diminished if he should... perish."   
  
Jack flashed Teal'c a grin despite himself and yanked down his   
cap as Daniel finally joined the rest of the team where they stood   
in a damp alley on the outskirts of downtown Cleveland.  
  
"Sir, we really, really have to hurry."  
  
"I know that, Carter," he growled, frustrated with the situation   
rather than with his 2IC.   
  
She laid a light hand on his arm, startling him. Jack met her   
worried eyes. "Its Halloween, Colonel. Kids... lots of kids..."  
  
Jack swallowed suddenly as he shifted, resettling the comforting   
weight of his gun against his hip before cursing, vividly. "Its   
Halloween. Damnit! Why didn't anyone think to mention that   
pertinent bit of information earlier?"  
  
"I do not understand Jack ONeill. What bearing does the   
traditional celebration of All Hallow's Eve have upon our hunt   
for the escaped Goa'uld?"   
  
Daniel blanched with sudden understand. "Trick-or-treaters... Oh   
god, there'll be hundreds, thousands of people running around as   
soon as its dark. Katar could take anyone for a host and we'd never   
be able to find him again."  
  
As one, SG-1 looked up through the alleyway's walls to the slowly   
darkening sky. It was nearly dusk already.   
  
"Shit, we got to move. Let's go. Teal'c, Carter, keep your spider   
senses peeled for our little friend. This time we're shooting first,   
asking questions later and the NID can bite me if they have a problem   
with it. At least we won't have to worry too much about costumes,   
huh?"   
  
Teal'c raised a single brow. "Spider sense?"  
  
"Spiderman," Sam replied as they fanned out to continue their   
search.  
  
Teal'c thought for a moment and nodded sagely. "Spiderman."

* * *

Alexander Harris tried to keep the Booty Gang somewhat in line as   
they tromped between the cramped houses in the outskirts of downtown   
Cleveland. Hopefully this Halloween would actually live up to the   
holiday's reputation by remaining quiet on the supernatural front.   
It'd be kind of nice to manage without vampires, demons, and the   
forces of darkness for one night. He was really tired of hearing   
the girls complain about how hard it was to get green blood out of   
leather pants.   
  
"Ashley, put your sword away!" The small girl, a good head shorter   
than even Buffy, scowled at him before sticking out her tongue,   
blonde pixie-cut hair falling into merry blue eyes. She sheathed   
her sword though and surged up with the others as they rang the   
doorbell of the next house.   
  
Xander rocked back on his heels, a slight smile twitching his lips   
as an elderly woman answered the door, bowl full of candy in hand.   
He had no doubt that the poor woman could handle the usual   
trick-or-treaters. Despite her apparent frailty, she probably ruled   
generations of children and grandchildren with an iron fist. His   
bunch however, was another matter entirely.  
  
Sixteen girls ranging in age from twelve to fourteen, dressed as   
the pirates they acted like the other three hundred and sixty-three   
days of the year, crowded into the doorway of the rundown   
townhome, their treat sacks held open wide. "Trick-or-treat,"   
came the chiming command- in unison no less.  
  
He wondered absently how long they had practiced to achieve that   
effect. But, watching the flummoxed expression cross the   
supposed grandmother's face, it was worth it. It wasn't often you   
got to shock the elderly, at least not without any accompanying   
guilt. Xander snickered at the thought and made a mental note to   
have the girls give a repeat performance to Giles next time the   
Watcher swung by the Booty House. It would amuse him, in a   
horrified way of course, but the Englishman would be amused   
nonetheless, which was no mean feat.  
  
Lindsay, the tallest and oldest of the group, got her candy first   
and skipped back to join Xander, giving her Instructor a bright,   
blinding smile as she slung the considerable weight of her candy   
sack back over her shoulder. "You know," she started out with a   
bubbling lilt, "if you haven't gotten me a present for my birthday   
yet there's this CD I saw the other day, when we were chasing that   
vamp through Target, by this group... has Amanda made you listen to   
them yet because she is SO obsessed..."  
  
Xander let her familiar chatter roll around him and marveled at the   
difference three years could make. Lindsay had come to them not   
long after the last battle of Sunnydale, mere months after the Scooby   
Gang had settled down, more or less, in Cleveland. She had been   
called at eleven, a child in so many ways, but anyone who could have   
survived a heroin-addicted mother and a father prone to drunken rages   
learned to grow up fast. Xander could still remember her nightmares   
about her parents during those first few months with them. Of the   
little girl with auburn pigtails and big brown eyes throwing herself   
in his arms and sobbing when she woke.   
  
She had been the founding member of the Booty Gang in the newly   
restructured, American made, Watcher's Council. It had taken almost   
a year to truly sort everything out and for Giles to create The   
System. In The System, the girls, newly called slayers, were split   
into three groups based on age. Xander took the youngest ones,   
everyone under the age of fifteen, and gave them a few years of   
basic training... exercises, research background, a bit of magic,   
and a whole lot of practice- staking fledglings, swarming more minor   
demons together to learn group tactics.   
  
Faith took over when the girls turned fifteen for three years of   
intensive work. The fact that Faith's girls named their home the   
Big House was pretty indicative of how hard they were worked. The  
training gave the girls better chances then any other Slayer had has   
for several millennia though, not matter how many kinks The System   
might have. Xander would be the first to admit that a one-eyed   
construction worker probably wasn't the best choice to train children   
in the art of war, regardless of what Buffy had to say on the matter.   
  
Though more than two thirds of all Slayers, their Slayers, now lived   
to see eighteen. He and Faith couldn't be doing too horrible of a   
job.  
  
Buffy took over on each girl's eighteenth birthday. She, Giles, and   
whatever potential Watcher had been chosen, went with the girl for   
a month of world travel, slaying demons and vampires abroad, away   
from the comfort, not matter how slight, of home and of Cleveland's   
fairly predictable Hellmouth. Traveling in such close quarters   
also gave Buffy and Giles a good insight into each matched pair's   
strengths and weaknesses, and where they might best be stationed.   
Or if they should even be paired together. No one wanted a repeat   
of Faith and Wesley. A Slayer had to trust her Watcher and a Watcher   
had to at least try to understand his Slayer. Otherwise, bad things   
happened, like the staking of humans and attempts to end the world.   
  
Lindsay, eleven, Emily, thirteen, and Meghan, fourteen, had been   
Xander's first group of girls. Their first Halloween together, he   
had dressed up as a pirate. If he was going to look like one he   
could at least dress like one once in awhile. As a show of   
solidarity, Lindsay, Emily, and Meghan had dressed up as well. He   
remembered them mocking the Scooby Squad, Buffy's pet name for all   
the older girls she was taking under her wing, a rip off of the   
Scooby Gang of old. It had taken Lindsay all of five minutes to   
use the pirate theme to come up with the parody of the Booty Gang.   
  
It had stuck ever since.   
  
"I'm gonna miss you, Kid," Xander said softly, interrupting Lindsay's   
bright chatter.   
  
She paused a heartbeat and met his gaze, her own warm eyes   
suspiciously bright. For all her words, some things could just   
never be said. "Ditto."  
  
He hugged her tightly. Sometimes you didn't need the words.

* * *

"Come on Danny, hurry it up!" Jack called to the hyperventilating   
archaeologist as he and his team raced down yet another damn   
alleyway, desperately following their fleeting glimpse of Katar as   
the Goa'uld increased his lead.   
  
Dusk was quickly becoming darkness, and their slim chance of   
recapturing a major security breach was growing slimmer by the   
second. Jack wasn't even considering the likelihood of Katar   
jumping hosts. Of Katar taking over some unsuspecting, innocent,   
child. Just couldn't force himself to do it without retching and,   
quite frankly, running was a lot more conducive to their situation   
right now.  
  
SG-1 rounded the corner of a building as they burst out of the   
alleyway.

* * *

Xander's head snapped up half a second before Lindsay tensed beneath   
his hands. The girls, all who had been talking and laughing, were   
eerily silent as seventeen pairs of eyes, sixteen blessed with   
supernatural powers- one damaged set simply more aware thanks to a   
lifetime spent on the Mouth of Hell, were riveted on the man who was   
running their way.   
  
The man was dressed in pretty authentic looking Egyptian garb,   
nothing very out of the ordinary on Halloween, granted. He was in   
his thirties, handsome if you went for that sort of thing (which   
Xander did not), but his skin was pale despite its natural tan,   
eyes smudged with dark circles beneath them. Besides, glowing eyes,   
glowing eyes definitely weren't normal.  
  
It was an instinctual response for Xander to shove Lindsay behind   
him and surge forward, ever handy stake extended, to deal with   
whatever threat this not so human thing represented because, even   
though the girls were Chosen, Xander was the only one old enough to   
drive. He had the fleeting hope that the little old lady had closed   
her door. Depending on how this confrontation went down, Xander   
REALLY did not want to have to explain basic demonology to someone   
who would probably keel over with the news.   
  
And that was about all he had time for before the man crashed into   
him like a freight train, throwing them both to the pavement with   
a fairly spectacular crash.

* * *

"Damnit!" Jack swore for the hundredth time that night as they   
arrived in time to see Katar take a civilian down in a mess of   
tangled limbs. He noticed the gaggle of wide-eyed teenagers, all   
dressed like a bad version of Treasure Island, but his attention was   
all for the Goa-uld and the intended victim as SG-1 ringed the duo,   
weapons raised and ready for who knew what.

* * *

Xander grunted as Mr. Glow Worm Eyes managed to grind Xander's   
shoulders into the curb before impaling himself on Xander's up-   
thrust stake. On purpose no less. Xander would have bet on it.   
The glowing subsided as the stake slid through organs with a   
sickening ease that was all too familiar, and blood coated both   
men a sticky red.   
  
Suddenly the man jerked and gasped, "Oh God, I'm sorry, I couldn't   
stop him..."  
  
Which of course made no sense whatsoever, but, then, things in   
Xander's life rarely did. The snake looking creature that started   
slithering out of the dead man's mouth made even less sense, but was   
WAY higher on the yuck scale than a little bit of guts.  
  
Xander threw the body away from him the best he could and tried to   
scramble backwards on all fours, crab-style, but the slimy snake   
thing just kept right on coming with a determination Xander might   
have admired, if it hadn't been aimed at him. He was aware,   
peripherally, of some dangerous looking people in uniform, but he   
really was much more concerned with whatever it was that seemed to   
be intent on possessing him. Or eating him. Or, mating with him.   
Thanks to his track record, who knew?

* * *

Teal'c had his staff weapon rained on the young, terrified looking   
civilian also dressed in pirate paraphernalia and the Goa'uld larvae   
which was currently trying it's hardest to take him as a temporary   
host. Teal'c couldn't get a clear shot in, and they, not to mention   
the innocent man, were about to run out of time.   
  
Daniel screamed out in denial as Sam and Jack tried to restrain the   
archaeologist. The Goa-uld flung itself at the kid, who couldn't   
have been a day older than twenty, and forced itself down the kid's   
throat. "Jack, NO!" Daniel cried as Jack nodded briefly at Teal'c.   
  
The Jaffa returned the gesture and started to shoot, hopefully to   
stun the boy and not kill him (advanced healing was handy sometimes)   
but either way, the Goa'uld threat needed to be neutralized, whatever   
the cost. Jack couldn't leave something with such potentially   
disastrous consequences to fate. NO ONE wanted a repeat of Seth.  
  
Jack, Daniel, and Sam were left in baffled amazement as their team   
mate disappeared under a pile of screaming, vicious, angry preteen   
girls, who swarmed Teal'c like ants a heartbeat before the Jaffa   
shot at the newly possessed human. Apparently, a friend of theirs.   
  
And that was only the first surprise of the evening as the kid, now   
a good candidate for Public Enemy Number One thanks to his new   
parasitical friend, went rigid before being wracked by great heaving   
coughs. Jack, Daniel, and Sam blinked, probably in unison, as the   
kid literally coughed up the Goa'uld larvae.   
  
Katar flopped on the ground like a rather confused trout for all of   
half a second before one of the girls, twelve if she was a   
day, yanked out her not so pretend pirate's sword and chopped the   
Goa'uld in two.   
  
The black haired kid coughed once, blinked himself, wiped some   
residual slime away from his mouth with the back of one hand, and   
weakly said, "Thanks Ash."   
  
The cute little pint-sized blonde grinned from ear to ear, like   
she'd just been given the greatest compliment in the world, and   
said, "You're quite welcome." 


	2. Good Thing

**AN:** Whee! Thanks for the reviews, I love you all, and HUGE   
thanks to Irene who has graciously agreed to continue to beta   
for this story despite having little to no interest in either   
Buffy or Stargate. I shall reward her with Labyrinth stories,   
and updates for you all. :)  
  
** Trick-or-Treat: Chapter Two**   
  
Xander felt like hell. He really needed to stand up, get the girls   
out of whatever dangerous situation they had managed to stumble into   
because military guys, so NOT a good thing, but all he could manage   
was a fairly pathetic groan. Lindsay crouched next to him, careful   
to stay on his good side, and touched one already bruising shoulder.  
  
"Xand... you okay?"   
  
"Sure," he replied with a wheeze, "just peachy. Remind me to thank   
Wills later..." His reaction headache arrived right on time, a   
lovely sledgehammer to his already battered head, and he groaned   
again, resting his forehead on his knees to try to ward off the pain.   
"Remind me to kill Wills later cause this royally sucks..."  
  
"Better than having whatever that was eating your brains, right?"   
Lindsay asked with a short nod towards the dismembered, well,   
whatever it was.   
  
He winced. "Ask me when the world stops spinning."  
  
And then came the military.   
  
Xander wasn't faring too well between the attempted possession and   
backlash reaction to his protection spell. He was aware enough to   
notice the blonde woman, the only female on the four person team,   
crouch next to him, asking questions he really wasn't coherent enough   
to lie believably for. So he picked the easy course and sat silently   
on the cement as he was poked and prodded- eyes, ears, mouth. Probably   
the usual welcome mats for well, whatever the HELL had crawled down his   
very raw throat.  
  
Something told him that the gross snake creature wasn't unique.   
Mostly because military people did not like surprises. They   
seemed grim, but not too terribly surprised by the snake, worm,   
whatever it was. Unfortunately, something also told him that   
spiting the damn thing back out had been a surprise. Hence the fact   
that he was now being poked and prodded. Better him than the girls   
though...   
  
Wonderful.   
  
Linday was strung tight as a bowstring next to him, stubbornly   
refusing to be intimidated by the very real and frightening authority   
the military represented. She would behave though, bless her, if only  
because Xander had spent the last three years drilling stories and   
possible scenarios developed from their bad, bad Initiative experiences   
into her. He only hoped that the rest of the girls, most a lot less   
level-headed, remembered their lessons as well as Lindsay did. Take   
Ashley for example- all he could hope for on that front was that she   
kept her damn sword sheathed the rest of the time.   
  
Bloody hell- the spinning just got faster.  
  
Xander moaned louder and tried to tuck his head further between his   
knees. Hey- if it worked when airplanes crashed in an explosion of   
twisted steel and fire then it could work when it felt like his own   
head was exploding, right?   
  
"Sir, I think he's going into shock from, well..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, Carter, I know. What do you suggest?" That question   
came from the big honcho. A Colonel if Xander's bleary, none too   
focused eyesight could be trusted. Which was doubtful.   
  
Cool fingers patted his cheek and Xander flinched from the touch.   
People near his face, anything near his face, were never a good idea.   
"I don't think it would hurt to transfer him to a military hospital,   
perhaps for observation, at least for a day or two."   
  
Shit. Shit, shit, shit in a bucket.

* * *

Jack shifted on the balls of his feet as he considered his 2IC's   
suggestion. The evening had already gone to hell in a hand basket.   
There had already been so many security breaches that he didn't even   
want to BEGIN to think about the paperwork that would follow this   
particular fiasco. He could already image how his conversation with   
the General would go.  
  
'Yes, General Hammond, we've retrieved the snake. No, it's no longer   
living, or, err, in one piece. Why not sir? Because a twelve year   
old pirate with pigtails sliced Katar in half with her sword. Well,   
you see sir, she was protecting a bigger pirate who Katar tried to   
take as a host. The boy coughed ol' snakey up like a wet hairball   
after Katar slithered down his throat, sir. Oh, also, there were   
fifteen other preteens who witnessed all this after they tackled   
Teal'c to the ground. Could we bring the boy home, by the way?   
Carter wants to perform tests. Oh please, General Hammond, can   
we?'  
  
Another night like tonight and Hammond would like force Jack to retire   
Jack glanced around and scowled as he noticed an elderly   
woman peering through the curtains of the townhome this whole   
incident had taken place in front of. Just great.   
  
'Sorry sir, make that sixteen teenagers, one young man, and a   
grandmother as witnesses.'   
  
"Jack," Daniel implored softly and Jack sighed in response.  
  
He knew what Daniel and Carter couldn't say in front of so many   
civilians. That it was their duty to make sure the boy didn't   
suffer any ill effects from Katar's near possession. That there   
might be a reason the kid was immune to the Goa'uld. That maybe,   
just maybe, their holy grail, a way to buck Goa'uld control, might   
have been under their proverbial noses this entire time here, on   
Earth.   
  
Jack glanced at Teal'c, who stood surrounded by some very determined   
looking children. The Jaffa inclined his head in silent communication,   
clearly echoing his agreement with Sam and Daniel's unspoken thoughts.   
Jack sighed and ran a frustrated hand through short, steel colored   
hair.   
  
"All right," he barked, "we'll take him under surveillance for a day   
or two, make sure he recovers sufficiently from his shock. Teal'c,   
Carter, you take care of containment. Daniel, go get the truck.   
We'll load..." Jack trailed off. He couldn't keep calling the kid   
'boy'. "What's his name?" he asked the protective teenage hovering   
at the young man's side, one thumb pointing at the boy who was curled   
up miserably on the pavement, shaggy black head between his knees as   
Daniel trotted off to get their abandoned transportation.   
  
The girl stared at him for a long moment, chin tilted at a stubborn   
angle Jack had learned to recognize from his resident archaeologist.   
"Xander," she finally responded stiffly, "his name is Xander."   
  
What the hell kind of name was Xander? "We'll load Xander up, get   
him to a facility where we can monitor him for awhile." Run some   
tests maybe, try not to spill the beans on the largest secret the   
U.S. Government had...  
  
The girl stood slowly, chin still jutting out as one hand drifted   
down to the sword by her side. A sword that was probably all too   
real, if the little blonde's was any indication. "You can't take him   
anywhere."   
  
Jack raised one brow as Carter reached up and hesitantly patted the   
girl's side from Sam's kneeling position next to Xander. "Hey, he'll   
be okay. We just want to make sure that there's no bad effects from   
his shock."   
  
"You can't take him away."   
  
And suddenly Jack O'Neill, Colonel in the U.S. Air Force, had little   
doubt that this child and her friends meant it. And were willing to   
cement their meaning with pirate swords. Funny, when you thought   
about it, after the heat of the moment, how none of them had   
batted an eye at the dead body sprawled on the ground at their feet.   
Funny how none of them were asking prying questions about the neatly   
severed Goa'uld either.   
  
Jack hadn't spent much time with any teenage girls aside from   
Cassandra but, something fishy was definitely going on.  
  
Xander raised his head and grasped one of the girl's hands.   
"Lindsay, it's okay. I'll go. Be good as new in a day or two, just   
like they say."   
  
Lindsay obviously wanted to protest as she glared at SG-1 with   
mutinous dislike. The young man closed his bloodshot eyes in obvious   
pain and gathered himself to speak again. "Call... call Faith.   
She'll take care of things."  
  
"But, Xand, we can't leave you..."  
  
"You will."   
  
Jack knew a command when he heard one and the girl, Lindsay, nodded   
woodenly before pulling herself together before their eyes. She met   
Jack's even gaze. "Can, will he be able to call, let us know he's doing   
okay and when," the girl took a deep breath, "when we can expect him   
home?"  
  
"Of course," Sam replied for her Commander, tone forcefully bright and   
optimistic, "Xander's not going to be a prisoner. Just a temporary   
patient."  
  
The scowl Lindsay sent the Major's way made a small smile twitch at   
the corner of Jack's lips. "Do you need us to call anyone, drive you   
all home?" he finally asked. Pirate swords or not, sixteen preteens   
should not be wandering the streets of downtown Cleveland at night by   
themselves.   
  
Lindsay shook her head firmly. "We live just around the block."   
  
She lied well, especially for a kid.   
  
Jack readjusted his gun against one hip again. "Really," he drawled,   
"all of you?"   
  
Watched as Lindsay and her friends stiffen. "Yeah," Lindsay replied,   
"it's a Home for emancipated girls who aren't old enough to live   
on their own yet. Xander is one of the counselors in charge of us."   
  
That lie was more believable and partially explained the odd vibes he   
was getting from the group as a whole, but it was still a lie. Jack   
would have bet some Abydos moonshine on it and that was saying   
something. The stuff really grew on you after awhile. It was better   
than Rogaine for putting hair on your chest. But he wasn't going to   
force the issue, at least not yet.   
  
SG-1 had more problems at the moment than puzzling out a gaggle of   
odd girls. Besides, it wasn't like they would be going anywhere-   
lies or no, they obviously cared a lot about Xander...  
  
"What the hell is his last name?"   
  
Lindsay's scowl transferred over to Jack but she answered, voice softer   
than before. "Harris. Alexander Harris."  
  
Oh. Well, the Xander made more sense with the Alex in front of it.  
  
"All right then, why don't you girls head on home before it gets any   
later?" Or before they decided to play twenty questions. "We'll make   
sure Xander keeps you posted and you'll be seeing him real soon anyway."  
  
They lingered, obviously unhappy with the situation, before Lindsay   
herded them all together, and, despite fiercely whispered protestations,   
set them marching off into the night. Jack was thoroughly convinced   
that he had never met an odder group of humans, real humans, in his   
life.  
  
When they were well and truly gone Teal'c pulled a convenient body   
bag from his pack and began bagging up Katar's previous and less   
fortunate host. Jack eyed the stake that had done the human in and   
resolved not to ask. At least not when Xander was curled up in a fetal   
position and groaning from some sort of combination of head pain and   
shock. The poor kid probably wasn't even aware that the girls he had   
been in charge of had left.   
  
Speaking of Xander, swords were weird enough but who the   
hell carried a STAKE?   
  
Carter used a smaller bag to clean up Katar's remains with equal   
efficiency and Jack really, really hoped that Daniel came back soon.   
The events of the evening were quickly making the night out as  
the most memorable Halloween ever. Considering that the previous record   
holder had been the Halloween Jack was five and his next door neighbor,   
Sally Struthers, convinced him to wear her pink ballerina outfit, having   
a record breaker on his hands was NOT a good thing. 


	3. Average

**AN:** Finally got motivated to catch up the readers with my ThH readers. If you're interested enough in this story to click around a bit, Twisting the Hellmouth has 40 or so chapters going. Otherwise, I'll be putting them up here as I manage. :)

* * *

**Trick-or-Treat: Chapter Three**

The girls were silent for all of a minute when they finally got away from the dampening presence of the military. Morgan spoke first; as second oldest she and Linsday, out of the current crop of girls, had been with Xander's Booty Gang the longest.

"How could you do that? Goddess, we don't even know what they're going to do with him! Did you even SEE their faces when Xan spit that worm thing up? Or are you stupid enough to believe whatever lies some jerks in uniform say?"

Lindsay stopped, slim shoulders rigid as she stood, her back to the fifteen belligerent preteens and teens. "I did what had to be done. I did what Xander said to do."

"Yeah," Ashley demanded from the back, "and since when do Slayers follow the rules?"

There were low mutterings of assent to that cheap shot.

"They're going to kill him, aren't they?" Emily asked tremulously as she stood next to Paula, clutching the older girl's arm.

Francine, the youngest, began to cry and Lindsay whipped around to face them, furious. "They aren't going to kill him! Don't you understand anything? They won't kill him because he's human. Normal. Average!" The last word came out as a snarl. "Xander went with those stupid Army bozos because he knew it was the only way to get them away from us!"

"We're human though, aren't we?" Angelique whispered, blue eyes wide in her pale, heart-shaped face.

"Yeah," Morgan answered softly for Lindsay, "but we're not normal. We're not average."

"Xander isn't average," Ashley muttered mutinously and there were strained giggles in response.

Lindsay smiled tiredly. "No, Xander is anything but average. But THEY don't know that and hopefully those Initiative wannabes don't figure it out either. Now come on- we have to get home so we can call Faith."

"Why not Willow?" Heidi demanded. "She could work her mojo and Scotty Xan back to us."

"Because," Morgan snapped acidly, "anyone else remember hearing how the world tends to get resurrected or blown up when bad things happen to the people Willow loves?" It was a rhetorical question but fifteen solemn hands were raised anyway and a collective shiver ran through the group. The girls loved Willow; she baked cookies. She was also kinda scary, being the most powerful witch in the world and all. "Oh, and Heidi, lay off the Star Trek reruns some, okay?"

"I'd end the world if something happened to Xander," Maggie vowed loyally.

"Or at least the government," Ashley chirped, brightening, before she drew her sword and swung it gleefully in an arc over her head, causing most of the girls around her to duck with practiced ease. Sometimes the smallest of their number was terribly easy to predict.

Lindsay rolled her eyes and shared a commiserating smile with a much-subdued Morgan. "All right- Janey, Monique, Kiley and Lana take point guard. Ashley, put your damn sword away."

Rebekkah snickered as Ashley glared.

* * *

"Yo, Faith, telephone!"

Faith rolled her shoulders and looked up, dark eyes narrowed at the unwanted intrusion. She wiped sweat away from her face with the back of one hand and took a swig of water from the bottle at her feet. "What have I told you guys about bothering me when I'm working out?"

Brandy snorted and tried to look disdainful but backed a step or two away from the basement stairs. She might have grown up on the bad side of the Bronx, but Faith could still kick her ass to the West coast and back. Some things were more important than covering your hide though.

Faith had taught her that.

"Not to interrupt unless it's an emergency."

Faith's body tensed at the younger Slayer's words. "Who is it?" she snapped as she scaled the stairs in record time.

Brandy swallowed. "Its Lindsay."

Faith frowned. "Which one is Lindsay? Is she that little black haired..."

"Xander's Lindsay."

"Shit. Give me that!" Faith snapped as she snatched the phone out of Brandy's startled hands. If Lindsay, Xander's technical second in command, was calling about an emergency that meant Xander couldn't call himself. Which meant all sorts of things Faith wasn't quite ready to think about.

She listened grimly for a minute, her full lips tightening as the story poured out of the Lindsay's mouth over the phone line. Listened grimly and began to plan her last night on Earth because when Willow heard the news shit wasn't going to just hit the fan- the world was.

"Is it bad?" Brandy whispered, looking very young and every one of her fifteen years.

Faith chuckled mercilessly as she mechanically hung up the phone. "It will be."

* * *

Xander knew he wasn't dead. He wished he were dead because then his head wouldn't HURT so damn much. Possession probably would have been easier on his brain. Though that thing, whatever it was, must have been a super snake or something because those Chinese Chigger Demons last year had been little devils but the backlash of Will's protective spell had just made him a little woozy then.

And there had been fifteen of them. Ugly as sin. Very unfriendly. Fifteen demons. One snake. Snakes BAD.

One little snake tried to take over his body, or maybe have a little Xander-shaped snack, and he was curled up in a little ball in the back of a military truck thinking very depressing thoughts. Some thoughts about how scared all the girls must feel- this wasn't the first time he had been incapacitated since creating the Booty House, but this was the first time he had been parted from them under these kind of conditions. A few thoughts intruded on how seriously pissed off Willow was going to be, not to mention the Buffster. Hopefully Willow wouldn't try to end the world. Though, if she did, the world was pretty much screwed because Xander had been about the only thing stopping it the last time. Which was a scary thought all in itself.

But most of his thoughts were about how MUCH his head hurt. And how he was really sorry he ate Valerie's Tuna Surprise for dinner. Apparently attempted possession didn't settle very well with badly burnt casserole because, apart from the blinding pain, Xander was also feeling really queasy. He was half aware of someone touching his arm, and the glint of a syringe, and managed a pathetic groan. Magical backlash, nausea, AND now he was being drugged. This was just turning out to be the best Halloween ever!

* * *

Carter joined Jack and Teal'c up in the front of the truck, leaving Daniel back with their patient. "I gave Xander a sedative. I'll probably knock him out for awhile. Definitely until we get back to Cheyenne. Besides, it seemed like he wasn't feeling too well anyway."

Jack grinned lazily. "Plus, it saves us a whole lot of awkward questions like 'hey, what tried to crawl down my throat,' though speaking of Xander, if that is his real name..."

"Actually, sir, I was wondering about that too so I took the liberty of borrowing his wallet.

Jack straightened from his comfortably sprawled position in the passenger seat as he eyed his 2IC. Stealing? Carter? One steel-gray brow rose fractionally. Man, he needed to stop spending time with Teal'c. He was picking up facial expressions. Next he'd have a little snake living in the pouch of his stomach all his own. Like that hadn't happened already.

Damn man-eating Hathor. Bitch.

"Borrowing Major? I'm impressed by your lack of scruples. Well come on Carter, share with the class."

She rolled her eyes at him, to used to his sardonic theatrics to take him too seriously anymore, but opened the contested item to reveal their patient's driver's license. "Well, unless this is a fake, and I won't know THAT until I can run it through out computers at the SGC, but out guest is indeed one Alexander Lavelle Harris..."

"Give me that," Jack said and leaned back to snatch the wallet from her amused fingers. "Geeze, his middle name really IS Lavelle."

Teal'c, from the driver's seat, frowned. "Is there some significance to Lavelle that I am currently unaware of Jack O'Neill?"

Carter stifled a laugh as a pained look suffused Jack's features. "There's not anything WRONG with it, per se," he muttered slowly and rather unconvincingly at that, "but if you were ranking manly names Lavelle would probably sail in dead last. His parents must be idiots..."

"There's a masculine standard many men on Earth try to uphold, Teal'c, and this standard applies to names," Sam explained, taking pity on the Jaffa.

Jack, who had lost interest in the conversation, was continuing to study Xander's license, passing over the brief and mundane information before lingering over the date of birth. "Wow, he's twenty-five. Didn't think the kid was that old."

Jack studied it for a moment longer before another piece of information caught hit attention. His face whitened and tightened as he rose, oblivious to Carter's questioning and Teal'c's curiosity laced silence as he headed towards the back of the truck with the determination of a runaway train.

Hell no, it couldn't be true, could it?

"Jack..." Daniel said, making his name a inquisitive question that he ignored. He stalked over to where Xander lay curled up on a cot, oblivious to the world and soundly asleep, still decked out in a ridiculous pirate costume. A ridiculous pirate costume with a rather worn looking eye-patch.

Jack swallowed convulsively as he knelt next to the young man's side. Daniel and Sam tentatively moved to stand behind him and Jack felt more than saw Daniel sending Carter a searching look that she shrugged helplessly at. He ignored them both as all of his fierce concentration centered on Xander, the boy, the man who grew more and more complex the longer they were with him.

The eye-patch had a tiny tear in one corner and was faded, as if it had been washed multiple times. Looking back on their brief confrontation in the street Jack could mentally picture Xander's movements. How he compensated for his disability. How the girls, none of whom had worn vision-impairing eye-patches themselves, had been careful to stay on their leader's good side, so they wouldn't startle him.

Damnit!

"Jack?" Daniel tried again, softly, before placing a gentling hand on his tense shoulder.

"Its real," he whispered, sounding shaken and furious with the knowledge after a long moment of unbroken silence.

"Umm, okay, I'll bite. What's real?"

Jack handed Daniel the license stiffly. "His eye-patch, its real."

"How do you know?" the archaeologist asked, baffled and disturbed by the implications.

"Check out his driving restrictions," Jack said woodenly, "it can't be anything else."

No wonder Xander had been dressed as a pirate. And the girls had been too... as a show of solidarity, perhaps? How the HELL could a twenty-five year old have injured an eye so badly that it couldn't be repaired? That, in this day and age, he required an eye-patch?

"Sir, are you sure?"

"No, Carter," Jack snapped grimly, "but we're about to find out." He reached out slowly, fingers hovering in a moment of indecision, before gently peeling back the eye-patch from one pale cheek with gentle hands.

The three members of SG1, who had seen and experienced more than their fair share of pain, grew silent at the scars they had revealed.

"What... HOW could that have happened?" Daniel finally asked hoarsely.

Jack O'Neill ignored that question as well before carefully putting the eye-patch back in place and rising, ignoring the coldness curling out from his clenched gut. He made his way silently to the front of the truck, shoulders still locked in a rigid line of tension and unreleased anger.

Daniel Jackson spoke in the void Jack's absence had left. "I'm not a medical doctor, Sam, but I know that wasn't a clean wound."

She swallowed and wet dry lips nervously as she spared a sympathetic look for their sleeping patient. "No," she replied quietly, "that wasn't a clean wound at all."


	4. JELLO

**AN:** A new chapter for all those patiently or not so patiently waiting. Your reviews and emails rock my socks. I love getting them so no, ya'll don't go unappreciated. 

Check out my new Buffy cross-over website for fun wallpapers and well, other stuff soon. It, like most of my life, is a work in progress.

http/ is anyone else having difficult emailing my hotmail account? I occasionally get a complaint, but most seem to go through...

* * *

**Trick-Or-Treat: Chapter Four**

"Well?" Jack demanded as he straddled a chair in the infirmary deep within Cheyenne Mountain. Carter was perched on an empty bed while Teal'c stood at attention and Daniel leaned loosely against a filing cabinet. Why the hell was there a filing cabinet in patient quarters anyway? Did Frasier run out of office space or something?

Dr. Janet Frasier snorted at his imperious tone and clipped her pen to Alexander Lavelle Harris's chart smartly. "Well Colonel, aside from some minor abrasions on the back of his throat and some assorted bruises from his fall on the cement, there's nothing physically wrong with him. Exhaustion, and Major Carter's administered sedatives, are the only things keeping him out. He should wake up shortly.

"He's also wholly human. Earth human as well. No abnormalities as far as I could ascertain, either genetically or from extraneous materials..."

"Which would be?" Jack drawled pointedly.

Frasier shrugged. "The human body often absorbs nutrients and minerals through the consumptions of food or liquids. These nutrients and minerals usually leave some traces in the bloodstream. Most of the humans we've encountered from other worlds who are genetically identical to contain these traces when their worlds hold different elements than ours. Mr. Harris appears to be exactly he looks like- a perfectly normal Earthen human."

"With one eye," Jack muttered.

Janet's full mouth tightened in response. "Yes... that injury is not new. Its probably several years old at least. There's also..." she hesitated briefly before finishing, "there's other scars too."

"What kind of scars?" Jack's voice was deadly in its controlled calm, and too loud for the overbearing silence of the room.

Frasier looked uncomfortable. "Its, its hard to say for sure. A lot of them have old scar tissue but some are new too. Most look like knife cuts of some sort, a few are definitely burns, but some- I couldn't even venture a guess."

"I want to see."

She hesitated again, even before the face of his implacable will, before nodded briefly and leading SG-1 over a room. Jack kicked the filing cabinet on his way out, just for good measure. His team entered the new room and moved towards the last hospital bed in it. They thronged it and watched, grim-faced, as the good doctor pulled open the privacy curtain surrounding the bed before checking her chart for reference.

Jack stared at Xander as Janet reviewed her notes, noticed how dark the boy, the young man, looked against the stark hospital sheets, especially dressed in the too damned familiar hospital gown. He hated those things. Draft as hell.

Xander's eye-patch seemed even more out of place, more somber, more frightening, without the pirate costume. What could it be like to be twenty-five and have already suffered such a major injury? Men Xander's age were supposed to be fearless and absolutely certain of their own immortality. Something told Jack that Xander was very aware of his mortality, just as something told Jack that he didn't really want to see what else the young man before him had gone through.

Knew that he couldn't NOT see.

So he watched as Janet showed SG-1 scar after scar with gentle hands that moved and briefly flashed scarred skin for them all to see, an acknowledgement of Xander Harris's past suffering. Some did look like knife wounds, some burns, scars very similar to those Jack himself bore from years spent in service to his country. Other scars, other scars were made from things Jack didn't even want to begin to contemplate.

The scars more than anything made him feel guilty for allowing this boy to be virtually kidnapped and drugged away just because Mr. Harris had the gall to escape from humanity's greatest enemy. The scars made Jack fervently glad that his team had taken Xander away from whatever kind of life resulted in such pain because many of the damned scars WERE new, pink and jagged against tanned skin.

Did those fiercely protective girls share more than a costume with their counselor? Did they sport similar scars as well? Even that remote suspicion was absolutely chilling.

"That's... that's all of them," Janet concluded lamely.

Daniel, who was pale and tight-lipped, spoke for them all when he said stiffly, "Thank you, Janet, that was quite... enough."

Carter swallowed reflexively and absently checked her watch. Jack watched as her mouth tightened. "Sir, don't we have a briefing with the General?"

Jack glanced at his own watch and shrugged, not in the mood the care just then. "Yeah, about five minutes ago." He paused, made the mental effort to rouse himself, and continued with forced enthusiasm,  
"Come on kids- let's go face the very grumpy music. Doc, take good care of our patient."

Frasier managed a small smile. "I'll treat him like one of you."

"Oh good, a familiar situation for you then."

Janet snorted inelegantly as SG-1 filed out but the fond smile never wavered from his face.

* * *

Xander woke up in a hospital. He didn't even have to open his eyes to recognize the smell of quality antiseptic, instead of the cheap stuff Andrew always bought in bulk. And of course there was the feel of his hospital gown. He ALWAYS knew when he was in one of those- they scratched, itched, and covered practically NOTHING. A blushing Dawn still giggled every time she swung by and told new Scoobies THAT particular Xander related hospital story.

Though theoretically it was good for the girls to know that there could be humor, even with all the pain and destiny. Or at least that was the excuse Dawn always gave for telling it.

Stupid non-existent back ties. And the damned gowns were drafty as hell to boot. Not that Xander had ever been to Hell, unlike Buffy and some of the girls, but well, he had heard enough 'when I was fighting Ubervamps in the Hellmouth' stories to get the picture.

Demons, unspeakable evil, bad ventilation- check.

Now the question du jour was, which hospital was he in? Santa Ruiz was Xander's personal favorite. The doctors were clueless about the whole Mouth of Hell in their backyard, the nurses were hot and didn't ask difficult questions, and Xander's insurance covered him in full.

Although Saint Paul's had blue jello. With whipped cream. Yummy! Nothing healed a life-threatening wound better than blue jello.

Unfortunately, before he could open his eyes, he remembered the bizarre series of events that were currently responsible for his current convalescence. Remembered very clearly the bizarre snake, Willow's splendidly thorough protection spell and its subsequent backfiring, a WHOLE lot of pain, and, oh yeah- the military.

Shit.

Scratch the blue jello. Xander was going to be lucky to walk out of wherever the hell he was undissected.

* * *

"Welcome back, SG-1."

"Thank you, General Hammond."

"Colonel O'Neill," the General warned through a slight grin as Jack threw himself in his usually briefing room chair as the rest of his team followed suit. The General's smile faded as the meeting turned to address more serious matters. "I've read your preliminary reports. While Katar's death is unfortunate..."

"If only because taking him apart would have kept the NID entertained for months," Daniel quipped.

"As I was saying, Dr. Jackson," the archaeologist flushed at the pointed rebuke, "while I would have preferred for Katar to be brought back alive, the most important thing is that we don not have a rogue Goa'uld out terrorizing the general population. Which brings us neatly to our young patient, Mr. Harris, am I correct?"

"Alexander Lavelle Harris," Teal'c stated gravely.

Jack slouched deeper in his chair. "He goes by Xander."

Hammond ignored them both, predictably enough, and turned to Carter. "Major Carter, have you complete the background check I requested?"

Sam nodded and rifled though a thickening file folder she had snatched from her office on the way to the briefing before she extracted a suspiciously slim report and several accompanying copies. She passed them around the table and began to narrate a short summary- starting with Xander's childhood- as Jack scanned the information.

The terrifying ordinary information.

On the surface Xander could be the poster child for middle-class America, right down to his mediocre grades. Though, not that Jack LIKED to read Carter's thoroughly detailed and boring reports, the information itself, despite his ordinariness, seemed rather sparse. The thickest part of the report consisted of medical records.

Some were dated from when Xander had been a child, all the usually maladies liked a broken arm when he was six, a sprained ankle when he was ten. The visits to the emergency room got more and more frequent beginning in high school, and the injuries more bizarre. Half the medical records didn't even bother to list the cause of injury. Some didn't even describe the exact nature of the wound.

What the hell kind of place has Xander grown up in?

"Sunnydale, California."

Jack's head jerked up at Daniel's musing words. "What's up, Danny Boy?"

Carter turned to look at her commanding officer, brown crinkled in thoughtful concentration. "Sunnydale, why do I know that name? Its familiar..." Sam frowned. "Its familiar but why would... sir, sirs, the crater!"

Jack locked his hands together and rested them on the edge of the briefing room table as his twiddled his thumbs. "Care to be a little more descriptive, Carter?"

She jumped up excitedly and began to pace the briefing room. "Sunnydale was that town that disappeared what, four years ago? Apparently the entire city rested over a previously undiscovered and inactive fault line. There was this massive earthquake and the city literally disappeared and became a crater."

"How could I have not heard about this?" Daniel demanded, looking both affronted and intrigued by his lack of knowledge.

"Well considering you were living it up on Abydos at the time," Jack drawled, amused despite himself at Daniel's ignorance.

"Exactly!" Carter continued, animatedly, "It also explains why none of us really recognized the name; we were all just gearing up for SG-1's first mission and Teal'c was still uhh..." she faltered momentarily.

"I was still in the service of Apophis," Teal'c concluded smoothly.

"This is all very interesting," Hammond interjected brusquely, "but none of this explains why Mr. Harris is apparently immune a Goa'uld's attempt to secure him as host. I want answers people! Now, what's the medical status on our patient?"

There was a knock at the conference room door and a pause before Doctor Frasier poked her head in. "I just thought you all would like to know that Mr. Harris is awake."

Jack surged to his feet, momentarily surprising himself by a rush of anticipation. He hadn't had so much non-apocalyptic related excitement in years. About four years to be exact...

He made a mocking little bow towards his commander, who stared at him with familiar bemused blandness. "With your permission, General,  
we're off to get you some answers."

"By all means Colonel O'Neill," Hammond replied expansively, amused, "by all means."


	5. Lunch

**AN: **A quick visit to the girls and a bit of a cliff-hanger. Yes, I'm mean. 

And, excuse the language, but the new reply feature is bitchin' cool! It's my favorite part of TtH. Now if only the servers could handle instant editing and posting... I responded to a few reviews of the last chapter by the way, and will definitely incorporate that into my posting routine here as well!

* * *

**Trick-Or-Treat: Chapter Five**

Faith shifted the pizzas balancing precariously on her left shoulder as she swung one leg and dismounted her bike, leaving her sleek, red helmet dangling from chrome handlebars. It was eleven o'clock the day after Halloween and too early for lunch but she had felt like she should come bearing gifts or some other shit like that. It was weird, invading Xander's turf so to speak, despite its necessity.

Besides, the childish part of her wanted to make a good impression on the youngest of the Scoobies. She'd get them next after all. After they were sufficiently infatuated with Xander to ignore the majority of what SHE said for the first six months.

God, Xander had to be okay. There'd be worse consequences than the wrath of Willow and Buffy to deal with otherwise. They'd have dozens of heart-broken mini-Slayers, a distraught ex-key to the universe, and a blubbering Watcher as well.

Giles crying, not a pretty sight.

And yeah, if some military ass-holes permanently messed the X-man up, Faith would take em' down. They weren't friends, she and Xander, but they had history and that wasn't necessarily a step down from friendship- just a more complicated kind of relationship. Hell, she'd taken his virginity.

Besides, he did a damn fine job getting the girls ready for what Destiny and Fate had handed them. Faith and Buffy taught them how to fight and lead. Xander taught the girls how to live as fighters and leaders; taught them that it was okay to fight for what they believed in. He did after all and that was minus the super powers.

As much as Faith dug the Slayer gig she knew it wasn't all shits and giggles. People died messy deaths and lived damn short lives. But after Xander most of the girls were okay with all that. A one-eyed construction worker probably wasn't the best choice when it came to training a Slayer army, but he was the best choice when it came to raising a bunch of scared preteen girls especially since, pardoned or not, Faith was hardly a role model.

She rung the doorbell and waited for the trample of feet and a harried group greeting by hysterical children missing their Instructor. The somber girl who opened the door after several moments of silence hardly met expectations but then, Lindsay was good at that. The temporary leader of Xander's Merry Girls was wearing a faded pair of snug jeans that madder her tall frame seem even longer, especially with an equally worn gray polo shirt tucked into the jeans. Auburn hair was pulled back severely in a high ponytail and amber eyes regarded Faith with quiet expectation.

Lindsay had come a hell of a long way from the eleven year old who woke up screaming from nightmares about her father's drunken beatings. Most of her progress was due, of course, in large part to the X-man and Faith, just for a moment, let herself wallow in the self-doubt and pity that always seemed to plague her in the face of competency. She couldn't stand coming in second best.

So she didn't.

Faith didn't even bother to play the damn game anymore. She didn't try to be the best; she just tried to be herself. A couple of years in jail really gave a person the time they needed to find their inner child and kick its whining ass.

"I brought lunch."

Lindsay smiled wanly and stepped aside mutely to let Faith enter, the lack of invitation glaring. Good girl. Faith stepped inside.

Unlike the Big House, the Booty House was organized and sedate in its chaos. Some of the girls were still half attired in their costumes from the night before. Others were in their pajamas and a few, like Lindsay, were fully dressed. Dishes clanked quietly in the background and subdued mini-Slayers quietly completed their chores. Most, despite smiled greetings, pretty much ignored Faith as Lindsay led the older Slayer towards the dining room.

"I'm impressed. Military or not, my girls would neglect their chores in a heartbeat if I disappeared."

Lindsay flashed her a broader smile. "Oh we did that last year, when that poltergeist in the old Broadway theater dropped a tree prop on Xander's head and he got a concussion. Soon as we brought him home from the hospital and he wasn't seeing double anymore he doubled our chores and revoked TV privileges for a month."

A smirk curled Faith's lips but she was careful to reply, "Harsh."

Lindsay eyed a gangly girl who was dusting in the dining room before shrugging with amused resignation. "But effective." She waved absently towards the large, sturdy, and somewhat scarred table that dominated the large room. "Just put them down there."

Faith complied and waited for a bellow announcing lunch, the preferred method at the Big House, but Xander's second in command merely tapped the shoulder of a small blonde girl with pixie cut hair perched on the table with a cordless phone in her hands. "Ash, go get everyone for lunch."

The girl shook her head no sullenly and stared stubbornly at the phone she cradled. Lindsay sighed. "I'll watch the phone, promise. Go get everyone and make sure you eat. You didn't touch your cereal at breakfast."

"Xander puts brown sugar in his Cheerios."

"Xander's going to yell if he comes back and realizes you've lost weight again."

The girl scowled but hopped of the table. "Fine, I'll eat the stupid pizza. But I'm watching the phone!" She ducked away with that defiant stand and Lindsay watched her with worried eyes.

"She taking it hard?" Faith asked, somewhat awkwardly. The fighting she could handle. The touchy feely girly shit took her WAY out of her league. Especially with the kiddies. They were so damn sensitive about everything.

"Yeah, and she's hi-strung anyway."

"She have weight issues?" Faith knew a lot of the girls did, especially since it seemed to take their appetites a bit longer to catch up with their bodies new demands once they were Chosen.

Lindsay sighed gustily again before rolling her eyes in a way that made her seem very young. "Always too thin. She came to us too thin. Its not that there's anything wrong with her, Ashley just has the attention span of a gnat. I don't think I've ever seen her sit down and eat a full meal without being distracted by something, usually shiny and sharp."

That startled a rough laugh out of the older Slayer.

"Come on, let's go talk in the basement. Everyone will come up from training to eat and gossip so we won't be disturbed." They passed the girls, all quiet chattering and streaming towards the pizza and kitchen for drinks on their way down to the basement. The Booty House's training room was nearly identical to Faith's, thought more of the weapons were a beginner's wood and it was a hell of a lot neater.

Faith sprawled on a gym mat and propped herself up to watch Lindsay pace the empty basement. "All right," she said, going for what passed as her teaching tone, "tell me, what next?"

Lindsay's mouth pursed as she thought, long legs quickly eating the space in the basement. "Sit on it as long as we can unless we know bad things are going down. Willow just got a new batch of witches and wizards to train so she won't give a thought to Xander not calling. Buffy and Xan just talked two days ago so we're set there for at least the next two weeks, barring a crisis on Buffy and Giles's side."

"Where are they located currently?" Faith pressed.

"South Africa. They're looking into getting Namyan and Ms. Terry set up with a witch-doctor in Africa to keep an eye on the local demon tribes in that part of the world. The tribes are usually peaceful but occasionally they go crazy and start eating humans like twinkies; they suck out the insides."

"Good. Continue."

"We do research. Kiley is a whiz on the Internet. We figured out that they were Air Force and have mapped out all the known and suspected bases on the mainland. We need to keep pushing though, maybe look for links to the Initiative. Find out what kind of trouble Xander might be in."

"Any problems from social workers?"

Lindsay shook her head. "Nah, we got it covered. We always fib for Giles and they haven't caught on to that yet- its been what, four years now? We can handle putting any that show up off for a few days if we need to."

Faith reclined again. "Anything else?"

"Call Dawn."

Faith sat up again. "Wanna explain why?"

Lindsay paused her pacing and stared down at the older Slayer, arms crossed over her breast. "Because she's a legal adult. She can take care of stuff like grocery store shopping and unexpected hospital visits without raising too many eyebrows. Plus, as much as she loves Xander, she has a level head. She'll sit on it with us until we know more."

"Very good. All right, call mini B and see if she can come down from college for a few days at least. Restrict patrolling to your usual routes. We don't need anyone getting killed cause they're playing hero, got it?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

Faith rose fluidly and stretched languidly, though all of her attention was focused on how Lindsay answered her last question. "Why'd we talk alone? Why not include the other girls?"

There was a hell of a lot she could have said in reply. Faith knew most of what was going on in that so logical brain of hers, but Lindsay simply said softly, "Sometimes you need a leader. This is one of those times."

Faith chuckled dryly. "Ya know, kid, you're going to turn out okay. Once I have my way with you for a few years."

Lindsay snickered in response.

* * *

Xander was sitting up in bed, his curtain still drawn back, when voices filled the corridor outside his room. The blinding headache had moved to nestle between his eyes but the pain had subsided to a dull spoon scraping his brains out, instead of an ice pick. That, unfortunately, was progress.

Even with as little attention he had paid during the whole, snake down his throat trauma, he still recognized four of the five people who opened the door and entered his room. There was the blonde woman who sent him a warm, encouraging smile before moving to stand by the end of his bed. Another woman, this one brunette and obviously a doctor, went to stand next to the blonde. That left the three military men- the tall African American who was wearing a wigged out knit cap, a brown haired one with glasses, and the one whose presence screamed leader. Besides, gray hair, SO a military power statement.

The African American man stopped several feet away from the bed and stood loosely at attention, his lidded gaze glued to Xander. Glasses pulled up a chair and perched on it, looking way too like an eager puppy. Mr. Big Bad Leader Man also pulled up a chair, only he chose to straddle it, resting his arms on the back as he attempted to stare Xander down coolly.

Xander's eyes rested fleetingly on the patch emblazoned on one sleeve of Leader's uniform and recognized Air Force, but not much else. Though honestly, if he were allowed to walk away Scott-free and never know what all the funky symbols on the patches meant, he'd get over his disappointment.

Really.

Mr. Hey I'm in Charge, Look at Me let a slow smile bleed across his mouth as he drawled, "So, Lavelle, man that has got to suck."

Xander blinked and stared into Follow the Leader's hard, steely features before throwing back his head and laughing until he cried.


End file.
